Sailor's Girl
by louseverine
Summary: Set towards the end of the 18th century. Rachel lives in the Port of London with her mother Shelby, leading a sad life, struggling not to starve, still waiting for her father who left them. Her only joy is singing, until Quinn comes along, a French runaway, dressed as a boy and working on a ship. They fall in love, despite everything that shouldn't be. Rated M to be safe.
1. Rachel

**A/N: I had this on my mind for ages and I've been dying to write it. I had so much fun with this chapter, creating this world and the characters. I will update as soon as I get back from holidays, which is in a bit more than four weeks, and the next chapter will give us Quinn's backstory.  
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it and please take a minute to leave me a review, they make me happy :)**

**Disclaimer: I do of course not own Glee or any of the characters**

**Sailor's Girl**

**18.06.1789 - Port of London**

It would have been a beautiful sunrise, covering the Thames with gentle golden sparkles, but the small girl standing on the dock, watching an incoming ship, squinting her eyes, she couldn't see it. Too thick was the grey coal dust and the smoke from the taverns and squalid houses cowering in the back.

A boy in dirty clothes ran by, almost bringing the little brunette to fall, giving her an apologetic grin, showing off his tooth gaps. He was clutching two apples, an angry tradesman with an entirely red head hurrying after him, muttering words the little girl would certainly get spanked for using at home. She shook her head disapprovingly, she knew stealing was a very naughty thing, a thing which honest people like her family would never do, even though her stomach was rumbling and she was fed up with the watery soup her mommy had cooked for the last couple of weeks.

A hustle started a couple of hundred metres further down the port. The familiar sounds of men shouting and barrels being unloaded filled the early morning. The girl started to sprint by the factories, skillfully jumping over puddles of undefinable liquid and ducking out of the way of men three times her height, who already, or maybe still, stumbled around drunkenly.

Once she arrived at the pier where a ship had just pulled in, she stood stock still, watching intently every man who left the ship. There were huge ones, resembling the pirates from the stories her daddy's friends used to tell over their ale, when she was allowed to stay up with them, curled up in her dad's lap. Those men scared her, and she tried to avert her eyes, but never long enough to miss anyone coming on land. There were boys, not much older than her, with burned skin and eyes that had adventure glistening in them. Those boys she envied, already feeling the pull of freedom anyone seeing ships sail away daily will feel at times. But the man she was looking for, the man who had her frozen in place, unmoving, even when she was hollered at by the ship's cook, because she was standing in his way, he wasn't with them. The girl dropped her head, disappointment stinging sharply in her empty belly.

"Oy, look Bertha, ain't that Shelby's brat?"

The girl spun around. "Morning, Miss.", she greeted politely. Her mommy said it was important to have good manners, but the child wasn't too sure if that was true, afterall none of the sailors had them.

"Whatcha doin' here? This ain't no place for wee lil' gals!"

The large woman patted her head and she scrunched up her nose, annoyed at the gesture.

"I'm waiting for my daddy, though. He's late, y'know, he should be home already!"

She stomped her foot. The woman shook her head and muttered sadly: "Sailor's girl, ey. Always the same."

The girl didn't quite understand what she meant by that, maybe the woman was a bit dumb, a lot of the people here were, she knew, because she was very smart for a little girl, she could even read, her mommy taught her. She didn't wish to talk to the woman anymore anyways, so she curtsied and told her 'Bye'. People always laughed when she curtsied, but it made her feel like a lady and after she sang, she had to curtsey too, so it couldn't hurt to practice.

She was out of breath when she arrived at the door of their small flat. It had once been a stable, but now there was an inn, that also offered rooms for sleeping 'or for any other services', as the owner always added with a wink. It was one of the many mysteries of this place, the girl couldn't understand why anyone would pay an awful lot of money for a shabby bed if they didn't want to sleep.

Her mommy was sitting in the kitchen, her head resting in her hands.

"Rachel, here you are.", she said softly.

Rachel bent her head, getting ready to be told off for going out by herself and for getting her dress dirty. It was important to her mom that she was presentable, she didn't want her to look like a girl from the streets.

However, Shelby only reached out to brush her cheek lightly.

"I went to look for daddy.", the child apologized, she knew her mom would understand, she wanted Leroy back just as bad as Rachel did.

"Oh, honey.", the woman sighed. She looked tired and a lot older than a couple of weeks ago and she was too thin, but you could still see what a beautiful woman she must have once been.

"I need to talk to you about that."

Huge brown eyes stared up at her curiously, nothing but trust and innocence written in them.

"Daddy might still take a little while to come back, alright? I want him here too, but we can't always get what we want, hm?"

She tried to smile encouragingly at her daughter.

"And because we have to eat and you have to grow tall and strong mommy needs some money, okay? So I need to go and work tonight. I need you to be a big girl and stay home alone. Can you do that for me? I'll be back in the morning, I promise! Don't let anyone in, you hear?"

Rachel nodded frantically. She could help her mommy.

"What are you going to work as? Are you gonna be a sailor, like daddy?"

"No sweetie, women can't do that. I'm going to make some men happy, okay, and they give me money for that."

Tears glistened in Shelby's eyes as she softly stroked Rachel's hair over and over.

"Does that make you sad, mommy? You don't have to go!"

The tiny child hugged her mother tightly.

"No, no, I'm just sad I have to leave you alone. And we do need some food for your hungry little belly, don't we?"

Tears fell and were soaked up by Rachel's long brown locks.

"Are you gonna sing to them? To the men?" Rachel's eyes sparkled excitedly and she jumped up and down on Shelby's lap a bit. "Daddy always said it made him happy when I sang!"

The innocence of the question made Shelby sob. Her girl still only saw the good in the world. She never wanted this to end, but she knew it would be inevitable. Too soon it would get to her how broken the world that she was living in was.

"Something like that. Something just like that." She kissed her daughter's forehead. How could something so beautiful and pure be in this place? She thanked God every day for sending her an angel and prayed that he wouldn't let her fall into this hell the rest of them were inhabiting.

"I could do that, too!" Rachel loved singing, and she loved happy people. She could help her mom. "Please, mommy?"

Her eyes were wide and pleading. They broke Shelby's heart.

"No!", she screamed, startling her daughter, who was now crying as well. "Listen, my sweet little angel, I know you love to sing and you will sing, one day, you will be the greatest singer of them all, but you will never do what mommy does, okay? You will never ever do what I'll be doing tonight! Never. I promise you that, Rachel, I promise you will never have to. I promise I will always protect you, I promise you will always be as happy as you are now. And I want you to promise the same to me. Promise that you'll never make men happy like I do, promise that you'll be happy and promise that you'll always sing, please, please, never stop singing, okay?"  
The words were frantic and laced with tears and sobs and it scared Rachel. She didn't understand what it was that made her mother so sad, but she could see that it was something incredibly important. So she promised everything her mother had asked from her and then let the tears flow quietly into the older woman's chest, safely enveloped in a comforting hug.

In the evening she watched her momma leave, tucked under a thin and scratchy blanked, still confused and a little bit scared, but also excited that her mom thought she was responsible enough to stay home all alone. She had gotten her goodnight kiss as usual and even a story. She had watched Shelby get ready, painting her face and putting on a red dress, with bows and lace. Rachel thought she looked like a princess, but her mommy had cried again when she had said that, so she kept quiet for the rest of the evening.

When she woke up in the morning Shelby was still asleep, her makeup and tears staining her face, her lost honour would have been visible for everyone but the little girl who quietly tiptoed around her not to wake her up. In the kitchen there was a glass of milk waiting for Rachel. She hadn't drunk milk in years. Happily she sipped on it and felt her stomach stop hurting for the first time in days.

**18.06.1799 - Port of London**

It was early morning and Rachel stood at the docks, watching out for incoming ships. It had become a ritual, there was a certain comfort in the daily routine of igniting a tiny burning flame of hope to have it trodden out as soon as all the sailors had come on land and Leroy wasn't with them again.

She knew that the barmaids whispered about her, some in ridicule, some with pity. She was the little girl who refused to grow up and realize that her father was gone, dead or simply not caring to return to a family he'd have to provide for.

There were still boys running around, fighting and stealing, but she didn't look down on them anymore. By the time her dad had been gone for two years and Shelby struggled to feed her more than water and a crust of bread, her law-abiding, honest side had to finally give in to the side that was screaming of hunger.

There had never been milk again after that one evening and now that she knew how her mother had gotten it, the thought of it made her feel sick. Shelby's profession had lost its mystery, as had the rooms beneath their flat.

Every day she pleaded for her mother to stay and every evening she left, with tears in her eyes and a kiss on Rachel's forehead. It was either that, or starve.

Sometimes Rachel wished she could have stayed that little girl forever, could have been happy forever, as she promised her mother. But reality caught up, washing over her, having her turn into a streetgirl who'd do anything for a piece of fruit. She grew up to have scars and a missing back tooth and she no longer owned a dress that wasn't ripped.

The only thing that hadn't changed, were her eyes. They had strangely kept the innocence of her childhood, they were still big and shining with promises the world seemed to somewhere hold for her. She was still waiting for her father to come back and make everything better and she still yearned for the adventure the salty air the ships brought with them held.

She turned around briskly when a young boy sweeping a deck whistled at her. He seemed like a child, fifteen at most, a year younger than her. His looks made her feel dirty and she quickly took off towards her home, shuddering with disgust at a world that made predators out of little boys and deserters out of daddies.

Shelby was lying on the couch, as always, she hardly got up before noon anymore. There was a bottle standing next to her, it must have been a bad night, it always was if she drunk to the point where she forgot to hide the bottle. Rachel grabbed it and slid it under the kitchen sink, careful to not make a noise. Then she tugged the blanket off her mother's shoulders to check for bruises under the smeared makeup. She didn't find any and sighed with relief. There was nothing more painful than treating her mother's wounds, seeing her leave for dark back alleys and desperate men at night all the same.

She combed her fingers through the thick brown strands sprawled out on the sheets.

"I'm so sorry!", she whispered. She told her every day, always when her mother couldn't hear. The guilt of not having kept her promise, of having turned sad, plagued her. She knew that every time Shelby saw the darkness in Rachel's eyes her own heart broke a bit more. She also knew that all this pain and the work was for her. It was, so she wouldn't have to sell her body, although young flesh paid better. It was, so that she would have a bed to sleep and some soup for dinner. Sometimes Rachel wished herself never born, maybe her mommy would be happier then, maybe Leroy would still be here. Shelby had told her she wasn't the reason for his leaving, she said he loved her, but she would even claim if she knew the opposite was true, just to comfort her child. Maybe she needed to believe it herself, so she wouldn't start to hate her own daughter for her misery.

Rachel covered Shelby up again and made her own bed. She tried to keep their home in order, it was the least she could do for her mother. She checked the bread bag, to see if there was anything left. There only was one thin, hard slice. Rachel put it on a plate and, ignoring her rumbling stomach and watering mouth, set it next to Shelby's bed. She was going to skip breakfast, she was strong enough to go another day without food, but she doubted her mother was. Her bones were showing and her once lively eyes sat alarmingly deep in their sockets.

"Rachie?" The woman's eyelids fluttered and she looked at her daughter.

"Mommy, eat that, please." Rachel handed her the plate carefully.

"Have you eaten already, honey?"

"Yes", Rachel lied.

"That's good, sweetie, very good." She smiled weakly. "Cm'ere, you!" She opened her arms and the younger Corcoran cuddled up to her, enjoying the safety this embrace falsely promised.

Shelby ate the bread, it was gone after only two bites, and Rachel could see her mother was still starving.

"Are you going to sing today, my angel?", Shelby asked.

Rachel nodded and smiled. She could sing in the bar below their flat once or twice a week. Sometimes it earned her a couple of pennies, sometimes all that came from it was the pleasure of forgetting all her sorrows and going up in what she truly loved doing. She liked the attention she got and the applause, but more than that, she loved the feeling of doing something that she had complete control over, that she was good at, outstanding even. It gave her life some kind of purpose. And above all else she sang for her mother, who once dreamed of becoming a singer, performing in the big entertainment areas of London. She never got there, running out of money all too quickly, falling in love with a sailor and never seeing the sparkling and beautiful side of the city again. But she still believed that her daughter would make it, her daughter with the perfect voice and the gorgeous face, who sounded like an angel. And Rachel was for sure not the one that would take her last pleasure from the woman.

Yes, she was going to sing that night, opening up with the music like she always did, shining and sparkling with the beauty and the happiness she could have known had destiny been kinder. She would change from the runaway sailor's daughter to a shining star, even if it was only for an hour. What she didn't know yet was that someone would fall deeply and madly in love with her, she had yet to see the hazel eyes that would turn her world and all she believed upside down.


	2. Quinn

**A/N: So, finally, here is the update! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this story, it means a lot to me! In this chapter you get to meet Quinn and next time our two lovelies will meet. Again, it was a great pleasure for me to write, this story is my baby, so please leave a review, it makes me happy.**

**Since Quinn lives in France and Judy is French, there is some French in this chapter. I decided to translate it right after the sentence, in brackets. If you prefer another form of translation or if you need none at all because all of you speak French fluently, let me know. Also, I apologize for any mistakes I made with my French, I haven't had it checked by anyone, and my skills are unfortunately far from perfect. (Although I have studied French for longer than I have studied English, which is just, well, embarrassing.)**

**Fun Fact: This chapter was handwritten in a hammock in the amazonian rainforest. What a hard life I lead, right?**

**Warning: There is some domestic violence in the Fabray household. It is never described graphically, but I thought I'd warn you anyways. But then again, we all know already that Russel's a complete ass.**

**Disclaimer: I do (of course) not own Glee or any of the characters from the show.**

**Enjoy!**

**18.06.1789 - Port de la Lune, Bordeaux**

Big hazel eyes were facing the sea. A girl was standing on a small wall near the port of her hometown, which they called the port of the moon. The girl had never seen the port by night, she wasn't allowed to be outside that late, but she imagined that the moon must sail down from the sky and over the sea, being pulled on land, like the heavy ships she admired, to then be sent on its journey through the night. She liked that idea, which was why she still hang on to it, despite being a little bit too old to actually believe that this was really what happened.  
Her blue dress was fluttering in the wind as she rose to her tiptoes, arms stretched widely, as if to fly off every moment. She forced her lungs to open wider, to inhale salty air until they felt like they could burst. It was the taste of adventure the girl yearned to be filled with.  
The orderly braids restraining her blonde locks had dissolved in the wind and her hair was fluttering like sails in a storm.  
It was frustrating to see the shore, to feel life so near and not be able to grasp it. The air wasn't enough. The child was getting ready to jump, everything she had been taught not to do not ignored, but simply forgotten, overshadowed by the prospect of being surrounded completely by the stories the ocean held.

"Lucy! Arrête immédiatement, où tu vas être désolée!" _(Lucy, stop this immediately or you will be sorry!)  
_The girl spun around, looking wild, dissheveled from the wind, her eyes exuding adventure. But then a wondrous transformation took place, in which the heroine, afraid of nothing and hungry for world, turned into a little girl, averting her eyes, in fear of her mother's threat.  
"Tu es folle! Qu'est-ce que tu fait? Tu ne peux pas nager, Lucy! C'est dangereux! Aussi, tu porte ta meilleure robe. Viens ici maintenant, depêche-toi!" _(You are insane! What are you doing? You can't swim, Lucy! That's dangerous! Also, you are wearing your best dress. Come here now, hurry up!)  
_"Mais je peux nager.", Lucy argued quietly. _(But I can swim.)  
_"Pas des arguments!" _(No arguments!) _The woman' voice was still on a level quiet enough not to draw attention, but it had an edge that told her daughter she was definitely angry. So Lucy jumped off the wall, silently parting from the excitement the sea promised and followed her mother, pouting. She _could_ swim! Joey had taught her!  
However, she knew not to mention that to her mom if she didn't want her punishment to be decidedly more severe. Judy was convinced that the blonde lanky teenager working on a fishing boat right beneath their estate, was no company for her daughter, and she had told the child so repeatedly. Still Lucy snuck off whenever she could, because the boy told stories of sailors and pirates, painting pictures in her head with his rich words and lively voice. Sometimes he also talked about politics in this way, treating her like a grown-up, explaining to her the revolution, with shining eyes. "Ils faitent un nouveau monde, Lucy, tout va être mieux. C'est mon rêve, ma petite Luce, d'aller au Paris pour les soutenir, pour faire une différence." _(They're creating a new world, Lucy, everything will be better. This is my dream, my little Luce, to go to Paris to support them, to make a difference.)  
_Her dad, too talked about the revolution, but he only swore or held big speeches that she didn't comprehend and afterwards he was agitated and scared his little daughter with cold eyes and outbursts of anger. She wasn't quite sure what she should think of those very different but each very passionate responses to the ominous "revolution", but she understood that it was a big thing and appreciated being informed about what was going on, just so she could be certain not to miss something exciting.  
Joey had also taught her fantastic things, like how to kill really big fishes, swim, or set sail.  
Her father said that these were things for boys only, and even then only the ones who were too stupid to make anything else of their life. But Joey laughed about that and said that maybe it was only for the boys and girls who were smart enough to see where to find happiness, like him and her. Lucy found his reasoning much more convincing.

Judy dragged her daughter past the fountains decorating their garden and through big, double winged doors.  
"Nous venons parler avec ton père, il va décider qu'est-ce qu'est la propre punition pour sortir toute seule." _(We will talk to your father, he'll decide what's the proper punishment for leaving all by yourself.)  
_Lucy ducked her head. While her mother was strict, but also often kind and gentle, her father was a stranger to her, only responsible for decision-making and often causing pain. He traveled a lot and when he was at home, he was working or having big dinners with important people, who seemed awfully boring to Lucy and all looked the same, so she constantly forgot their names. Whenever such a dinner was hosted, Lucy had to wear her prettiest dress and play the piano in front of everybody.  
She was getting more and more adept at playing, it was something her mother taught her and they invested a lot of time in it. Lucy felt like they were very close, hunched up beside each other on the piano stool, playing duets. Maman smiled when they played, sometimes she even giggled, and father never entered the piano room.  
"Seulement nous filles, n'est pas, Lucy, seulement nous filles.", Judy said and cuddled the girl. _(Only us girls, right, Lucy, only us girls.) _Lucy loved her mother in the music room.  
But at the dinners her mother never played. Lucy had to go up there all alone, being stared at by wealthy men who nodded approvingly when she finished and walked back to her place, eyes on the floor, scanning shiny leather shoes.  
"She sings, too!", her father then said, shoving her back in front of his guests.

She hated that part. He was right, she did sing, she sang constantly. Despite her young age her voice had a slight husk. Joey would grin and tell her that this was the old sailor hiding inside of her. Then he'd tickle her, demanding loudly for the pirate to come out. Lucy would squeal and swear never to sing to the boy again, but then she always did, because it made him smile and it made her drift off to faraway worlds with oceans and ships.  
She also sang to her mom, who told her she was a little angel and held her in her arms. And Lucy sang when she was all alone, the music helping her to dream, to forget everything around her and enter the little world she had created for herself inside of her head.  
But she didn't want to share all of this with her father's friends, or rather enemies, she didn't trust them to enter her world and treat it carefully, she feared they would shatter it. So she always stood rigidly, scared and angry, building a wall around her safe place, sending ice-cold glances towards her audience. And with every single time it became easier to close herself off completely, to detach from feeling.  
Neither her father nor the other business men seemed to notice, they clapped politely, leaving Russel Fabray to brag about his talented child, before he swiftly moved on to appraise his favorite horse or yet another property he purchased.

As Judy approached the wing of their house that served her husband as his working place and library, she asked one of the servants if her husband was free. He shook his head hesitantly and glanced over his shoulder with what Lucy thought to recognize as a slightly guilty expression. She'd have liked to ask him about it, but she knew she wasn't allowed to chat with the servants and since she was in trouble already, she decided to rein back her curiosity for now.  
Just as a released breath escaped her, believing the punishment would be postponed, the heavy wooden door to her father's study opened. A young woman strode out, combing her fingers through wild locks of auburn hair. However, when she spotted Mrs. Fabray, who had straightened her back to be able to look down at the girl, she lowered her eyes and quickened her pace to make an exit through the backdoor.  
"Elle est très belle!", Lucy stated, impressed. _(She's very beautiful)  
_"Oui, elle est.", Judy said bitterly. "Et très jeune." _(Yes, she is. And very young.)  
_Lucy heard anger and frustration in her mother's voice and she had that faraway look in her eyes. It confused Lucy, since she wasn't sure if the anger was directed at her. Maybe she shouldn't have admitted that she thought the girl was pretty?  
Once, when she was about five years old and her father had just started to get visits from beautiful girls in dresses that showed their ankles, Lucy was so taken with one of them, that she had said the thing which had gotten her the most vicious beating she could remember to this day.

The girl had had wavy dark hair and sparkling eyes that Lucy could still recall exactly. She didn't seem scared of Judy, like most of the girl did, and she gave the tiny girl hiding behind her mother's legs a sweet smile. Lucy had stood there in complete awe , watching as the young woman sauntered off, radiating so much life. Then, she had pulled at her mother's dress, to gain her attention, and said: "Maman, quand je serais grande, je vais marier une fille comme cette fille là!" _(Mom, when I'm grown up, I'll marry a girl like that girl there.)  
_Her mother, who had been trembling before ran off sobbing at that, leaving Lucy completely helpless and confused, until an hour later she found herself not able to sit because of the beltmarks on her back and a very acute understanding of gender and her duties as a woman, which included, first and foremost marrying a man. She hadn't been all to bothered by that at the time, thinking that in this case, she'd just marry Joey, and there wouldn't be any need for all the fuss her parents were making. By now she knew that in her case it wasn't nearly enough to just marry a man, he had to be wealthy and American, like her father, and a friend of him too, preferably. She didn't quite get why, but she hoped by the time she would be old enough to marry, it would all make sense to her.

"Donc, va reporter à ton père qu'est-ce que tu a fait!" _(Now, go report to your father what it is you have done!) _With that, the woman turned around, walking off briskly, probably to her bedroom, where she would often disappear for hours, leaving Lucy to eat alone with the gouvernante, after she had managed to stop the tears her father had caused. Judy said she needed that time, the silence, to cure her headaches. She got headaches more and more frequently lately, especially when father was around and busy meeting a lot of people.  
Lucy supposed today would be such a day, and it made the prospect of being beaten even harder to bear, since there wouldn't be anyone to hold her afterwards.  
Eyes fixed on the floor, she slowly passed the thick door frame, trying to swallow her tears, at least for right now. "A Fabray doesn't cry!", her father would always say. He didn't like tears.

**18.06.1799 - Port of London**

Quinn jumped on land and wrapped the thick rope around its nob with skilled and fast movements. She then whistled loudly to get the attention of Thomas, her fellow deck-hand, who heaved barrels over board, which Quinn forcefully swung onto the carriage waiting for them.  
"Quinn, Thomas!", the first mate yelled for them and both hurriedly joined him on the pier. The ground still felt like it was moving with waves, a side effect of being on sea for weeks. It made Quinn grin, knowing that before she could get used to it, she'd probably already be hired and sailing off again.  
"Get the deck cleaned up, then you're done!"  
"When do we get the pay?", Quinn asked back, which caused the tall man to roar with laughter.  
"Oh, Quinn, always thinking business as soon as he has ground under his feet. Everyone else is only thinking of them gals, they're meant to be good in London. City girls, ya know."  
He gave a big grin, exposing his black teeth. Then he nudged Quinn on the shoulder.  
"But not our Quinn 'ere, no, it's all 'bout the money!"  
"Without my pay I can hardly get any whores, Pavel, I think not even London girls work for free.", Quinn replied dryly.  
Pavel laughed heartily and patted her back harshly. "That's my boy!"  
Quinn joined in his laughter, it was almost impossible not to, seeing his broad shoulders shake from joy. He was a big fellow, who liked giving orders and enjoyed the pleasures of food and women, but he was also humorous and cared about his boys. What truly earned him Quinn's respect, however, was his seemingly unlimited knowledge about the sea and the art of sailing. he had grown on her, like the rest of the crew had in the past two months that she had sailed with them, and she felt a certain melancholia on leaving their companionship behind.  
"Come to the Red Lagoon tonight, good ale, good women, I'll have your 40 shillings ready for ya.", Pavel yelled, simply, because he never talked quietly, a side effect, Quinn supposed, of spending many years between the roaring waves.  
Quinn nodded courtly and got to work. She would not normally leave a ship without her money in the hand, she had learned this the hard way, but she trusted Pavel. Also, if she met up with him and the other men tonight, they might be able to tell her who was still looking for an agile deck-hand, or even a cabin-boy, if it was the only offer.

There was nothing that really kept her on land, and working made it less painfully obvious that she didn't have a home nor people she cared about. And even the worst crew meant not being completely alone. She had tried to keep herself busy and moving ever since she left home. It was safer that way, not to mention that she probably wouldn't be able to resist the pull of the water for longer than a couple of days anyway, now that she had experienced a sailor's life.  
What kept her going was the freedom that a ship setting sail gave her, this hadn't changed since the first time she walked onto a deck with the intention off traveling into a future that wasn't determined, into a life that could be redefined every single day.  
That first time had been over two years ago..

_**Flashback**_

**02.03.1797 - Port de la Lune, Bordeaux**

It was two days after Lucy's sixteenth birthday, when Judy entered her bedroom shortly before breakfast. The younger Fabray looked at her with poorly hidden surprise written all over her face, it happened very rarely that her mother visited her in her room. The only time they spent together now were the piano sessions, and even they didn't take place regularly.  
Lucy would have never admitted it to anyone, but she was lonely. Lonely in a house full of servants, where pretty tea parties were thrown and Ladies and their daughters made conversation with her. Lonely in a place where busy men, gardeners and her father's affairs went in and out. In a place where it was never quiet or empty, Lucy was lonely.  
Her father had become stricter since she had started becoming a woman, she hardly saw Joey anymore and to go down to the sea she had to ask for the companionship of one of her gouvernantes, which made it impossible to soak up the atmosphere of the port, to smell the fish and the tar and to dream herself far, far away.  
She had tried and defied the rules for a time, had kicked and screamed, had stormed out, sneaked out, told lies. But when she more often than not couldn't sit, couldn't sleep anymore from the painful welts on her back and her bottom, she eventually stopped and gave up, defeated.

"Lucy", her mother started, the low and serious tone of her voice promising nothing good.  
"Tu sais que j'étais 15 ans quand j'ai marié ton père, n'est pas?" _(You know that I was 15 when I married your father, right?)  
_Lucy turned around briskly, her back to her mother now. She knew this had to come up eventually, she had heard Russel screaming at his wife about it.  
"Teach her.. Behave like a Lady.. Can't afford.. Revolution.. Suitable.. American economy.. Railroads... Good for business.." The pillows over her ears were not enough to muffle the sound of the harsh voice. And of course she had also noticed that her father's business wasn't going well. She had listened to conversations, sneaked a look at newspapers and, most of all, noticed her father's increasingly bad mood and the frequent violent outbursts.  
She realized that financially it had been getting worse for her family ever since the revolution started, the execution of the king, of whom her father was a great supporter and business partner, had been the lowest point yet. The only thing that let them keep their lifestyle, at least for now, were her father's American connections. And naturally he was going to use his only child, a beautiful girl, as an investment, to work for his profit.  
Yes, Lucy had known all that, but she had still tried to push it away, not to deal with it until someone confronted her, she had decided to believe in some sort of change in her father, some pity from him, even though he had always been the same and never showed her any sign of affection so far.

But now it was here, her mother confirming her fears every moment.  
"Donc, ton père a un ami, un jeune homme, qui fait des affaires avec lui. Il a une belle maison, et Russel a dit qu'il est un homme sympathique. Il est Américain, comme ton père. Il n'a pas une femme, et il veut quelq'un qui parle l'Anglais et est d'une bonne famille. Il va dîner avec nous ce soir." _(Now, your father has a friend, a young man who does business with him. He has a beautiful house and Russel said that he's a pleasant man. He's American, like your father. He doesn't have a wife and he wants someone who speaks English and comes from a good family. He will have dinner with us tonight.)  
_"Je ne veux pas marier, maman!" _(I don't wanna marry, mom!) _Lucy tried to hold back her tears.  
"Rencontre-le premièrement, d'accord?", Judy pleaded. _(Meet him first, okay?)  
_"Ouais maman.", Lucy whispered.

_**End flashback**_

Quinn swept the deck absent-mindedly, remembering how she would have said anything right at that moment, just so her mother would not start to cry again, and how, that same evening, she had sacrificed the happiness of the woman, if she even had any left, to not become like her.

_**Flashback continued**_

Lucy was running towards the port, clad only in her nightgown, hair flying open in the wind, cheeks tear-stained, red and stinging from a hard slap.  
The evening had been a nightmare. All day everyone had washed and brushed Lucy, then forced her into the smallest corset she had ever worn.  
When she entered the dining room, she immediately felt greedy eyes roam over her body and from then on every word the giant man with the face of a teenage boy said, disgusted her. With every laugh he shared with Mr. Fabray all Lucy could think was: "He's like father, just like father!"  
She stared at the complete stranger, who was so familiar in a painful way, all night, refusing to say anything but "Yes" or "No". When he left, he devoured Lucy's body with his eyes once more, gave Russel a hearty handshake and grinned.  
"I'll be happy to take your invitation and come back soon."  
Then he turned to the girl who, in his mind, would soon be sharing his bed.  
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fabray." he grabbed her hand, which she had held stiffly by her side and planted a kiss on it. Lucy had to give it all she had not to pull back as if her fingers had been scorched by a flame when she felt the big sloppy lips and the stubble of a beard itching her soft skin. Then he left, without saying goodbye to Judy and without as much as a look to the servant who opened the door for him.

_**End flashback**_

Quinn shuddered at the memory and touched her hand. She had scrubbed it with soap until the skin was raw later that evening, still feeling his touch. She had hated this man from the moment she'd seen him, because she still couldn't find the strength to hate her own father.  
She started sweeping more frantically, the images of the night that followed her unofficial engagement flashing through her head.

_**Continue flashback**_

"I'm not marrying him!", Lucy said. "I am not marrying him!" She had tears in her eyes as they were desperately seeking her mother for some sort of support, but Judy averted her eyes.  
"Of course you are, he's a good catch! You're too old to just linger around the house, it's time you do something useful. He invests in railroads, it's a good business. And the American people aren't such unthankful fools like the French, so it is safe. It's good for the business, you don't understand that, so just shut your mouth and listen to what I tell you for once!"  
Lucy shook her head, she was panicking and no longer cared if she angered her father.  
"Do you have any idea what I have done for you, young lady? Had your mother at least managed to give me a son, he could have helped out in the business, but it had to be you. A woman, only good for being a drain on my pocket and looking pretty and some even fail in doing that. You're just like your mother!" He was fuming and tears were streaming down Lucy's face, blurring her vision, but she could see well enough that Judy left the room.  
Lucy had known for a long time how little her father cared about her, but hearing it out loud from him hurt more than she'd have expected.  
"I am not marrying him!", she screamed, her voice now breaking, making an exit like everything else that was good in her life. She scrambled towards the door, trying to flee the room like her mother had cowardly done before, but she was ripped around by her shoulder, a violent slap throwing her head to the side.  
"Yes you are, stubborn child! Go to your room, I don't wish to see you until you behave like the lady I raised!"  
Lucy stormed out, angrily wiping away the tears. She wouldn't give this man the honour of any more crying for him.  
"You didn't raise me at all!", she whispered when she was far enough so Russel wouldn't hear her.

In her room she started pacing frantically. Images she had known her whole life flashed through her mind, young women leaving her father's office, her mother trembling and red-eyed, the headaches, the coldness and distance in her father's eyes, the loneliness and the feeling of not being worth a thing that she knew Judy experienced. Only now the pictures of her mother were replaced by images of herself, those of her father by her young suitor.  
Lucy hit the wall, desperately trying to catch a clear thought when all she could think was how she'd rather die than face a lifetime of this.  
Still in this mindless state, having no idea what she was doing, she ran. She ran through the night air, not watching her steps, maybe falling once, twice, dozens of times, or maybe not, she couldn't remember.  
Finally her breathing calmed down and with it her thoughts when she found herself down by the port, the place that had once promised the world to her. And tonight she was going to make it fulfill its promise, she was going to take the world, since she had realized that no one was going to hand it to her.

She knocked on Joeys door, hard and over and over again, until the boy opened with sleep, surprise and fear written in his grey eyes.  
Lucy gave no explanations, simply demanding men's clothes and scissors, cutting off her long silky hair quickly and carelessly, crying without noticing it. Joey watched sadly, but didn't ask any questions, just showed her gently how to wear his hat and tie his shoes.  
She had always known he had fallen in love with her as she had grown older, in his own quiet way, and because of that he now let her go, selflessly giving the life he had always seen the desire for behind sparkling hazel eyes.  
She kissed him goodbye, thankful and passionately, with still tear-stained lips, a kiss not so much to the boy she had always adored but never desired, but much more to the life she used to have, to the part of herself she was leaving behind. It was a kiss goodbye for Lucy Fabray, received by the person who had always loved her the most.

Then he led her to a ship, the crew already preparing to leave, presenting her to the captain. "Vous cherchez un garçon, ouais?" _(You're looking for a boy, right?)  
_The captain grunted in approval.  
"Il est jeune mais adroit et intelligent. Et il parle l'Anglais." _(He is young, but agile and intelligent)  
_"You're in. 15 shillings to Scotland."  
Lucy reached for his outstretched hand and was pulled on board. Her mind didn't process her dream coming true so easily, her getaway finally starting, she just stood, staring in amazement. However, she was immediately charged with rolling up the ropes, getting her out of her daze and into a completely different trance.  
Only when they had left the port behind did the hectic life on board slow down a little bit, so Lucy got the chance to taste the air and look back to the small patch of land she had called home all her life. It had held her childhood and her dreams. She believed she could faintly see the outlines of Joey standing at the pier, but it was too dark to be sure her eyes weren't just playing a trick on her.  
Lucy was well aware that this was final, returning not an option, very probably not ever. She turned around, facing the sea and the stars above it. She ran a hand over her short hair, surprised at how light her head felt. She smiled.  
"What's your name, boy?" The mate had appeared beside her.  
"Quinn.", she answered, tasting the unfamiliar sound on her lips. "I'm Quinn." The way it mixed with the salty air and sounded in chorus with rushing waves pleased her.

"Welcome on board, Quinn!"


End file.
